Outliers of Tirano

  *

  I stayed in Belts Control only a short time. The comprocessors' exteriors reflected their military purpose. I'd never seen casings that were so ruggedly constructed and felt certain they were made of the same symplast as the walls. After being in Belts Control, I felt secure that no enemy could shut down the protection of the Belts.

  When I entered my quarters, I stared out my dormer window for a few moments before the rumblings in my stomach reminded me that I hadn't eaten since morning. I needed a comfort-style meal, and I knew how to fix something that would fit my needs.

  I'd never seen my father; he'd remained on Earth when Mom, Zhun'Mar, and Mirae returned through the Black Cavity. Mom wanted me to know as much about him as possible, and one of the ways she did that was to teach me to cook his favorite meals. What he enjoyed most were impromptu meals he'd cook for Mom that were based upon what he called the 5 P's: pasta, polenta, potatoes, panini, and his favorite, pizza. As we fixed the meals, Mom would regale me with stories of how he'd chose one of the 5 P's and then rummage through whatever provisions he had available at his house and create a delicious meal. Tirano used different words for each of the P's, but I've always thought of them as the 5 P's. And of course when I was old enough, the meals were always served with Dad's favorite wine, zinfandel, the spicy varietal that Mom brought back from Earth.

  I wanted something that was quick, so I chose pasta. I set a pot of water on the stove to boil. I opened my pantry and surveyed its contents. The easiest and fastest sauce, and Father's favorite, consisted of two ingredients: oil and garlic. I minced a couple cloves of garlic and dumped the garlic in some warmed olive oil. After I drained the pasta, I poured the oil and garlic over the pasta.

  In a few milli I was sitting at the table, dipping a slice of crusty bread in the sauce and drinking a glass of spicy zin. After my second glass of zin I was so tired that I didn't bother to clean-up the table before I moseyed into my bedroom. I fell on the bed and stared out the window. I needed some sleep before facing tomorrow. I used one of my favorite relaxation techniques and concentrated on the Belts until I could discern their slow spin.

  It worked. I closed my eyes and I welcomed sleep.

  My pendant vibrated. A message sounded in my implant. Vision has detected an unexpected surge in maser failure. Inform Belts Control immediately. Microprocessor down.

  My eyes snapped open. I stared at the Belts. I saw nothing unusual, but the human eye wouldn't. Was this some Sibyl hocus-pocus nonsense to test me? But why? If it wasn't true and I contacted Belts Control, I'd lose all credibility with the Council.

  I debated what to do. The only thing I could think of was to call Admiral Kiptani. The Admiral could contact Belts Control. If one of the microprocessors was down, he could have the Fleetman reboot it.

  I stepped to my comconsole and entered the Admiral's call sign. The milli passed as I waited for a reply. I repeated the call with an urgent tag.

  The Admiral appeared on my screen. He stood in an unlit vestibule in a white nightgown. He rubbed his eyes. "What's the meaning of this?" in a tone that could not be described as pleased.

  I swallowed and hoped Kiptani would believe me. "Vision messaged me that she detected an unexpected surge in maser failure. That a microprocessor is down."

  Kiptani stared at me blankly. "That's impossible. And if anything was wrong, I would have been notified immediately." He started to disconnect.

  I held up hand. "Please. At least contact Belts Control. If there's no problem, we'll both be able to go back to sleep."

  Kiptani nodded and linked me to his comconsole. "Contact Belts Control. Authorization Kiptani."

  I watched the comconsole. A Fleetman's face appeared. "Yes, Admiral."

  The Admiral gave me a sidelong glance. "My fellow Council member thought there might be something wrong with the functioning of one of the Belts."

  "No sir," he replied. "Everything appears to be functioning properly. But I'll run some diagnostics and let you know if anything is amiss."

  "Thanks," the Admiral replied. "That will be all."

  He deleted the connection with Belts Control. "Now can we get some sleep?"

  I felt too much like the Castel idiot to say anything other than, "Yes. Thanks for indulging me."

  *

  I was sound asleep when my comconsole sounded. I flicked on the screen. It was the Admiral. His face was contorted, but I couldn't tell if it was anger or sorrow. "A microprocessor malfunctioned briefly and quadrant of the Belts failed. A spiral missile attack obliterated Brehon Compound. There are no known survivors."

  I began to cry like a child.